02 Oct The Common Covenant

Posted at 04:03h in For My Wife, Poems by

I call Memory a playful Story-Teller,
She makes epics from error and end;
But she approaches ours all-the-different,
And why? for two Memories blend:

Because something holy happened here;
(And to mistell the inspired word is a sin)
Inexpressible is the God whose hands
Change strangers into lovers into kin.

Memory blushes and she can hardly speak
On mystery embodied and lithely found,
For love is an act of worship on dream-altar
Demanding veiled dark on the temple ground.

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